She’s adorable when she’s flustered, a faint pink spreading along her cheeks as she stares up at me with wide eyes. I reach forward and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my thumb brush along her cheek.
“You’ll get used to it, Red,” I murmur. “You turn thirty in six months, and you have a pact to fulfill. I fully intend to spoil my wife with the best of the best.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s only if I’m still single by then,” she counters. “Paolo seems very interested in me.”
“I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again, baby,” I say quietly, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “I waited years for you to let me back in. No guy named Paolo is getting in my way.” I pause. “Besides, you’re not actually interested in him.”
She scoffs. “What makes you say that? I’m considering letting him paint me naked next weekend. Who knows what it could lead to.”
I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. The image of Zalea naked, standing in front of some guy she barely knows makes me feel sick, and irritation twists in my chest. I’m not naive enough to pretend she didn’t have hookups while we were apart. But that’s all they were. Temporary and meaningless hookups.
Paolo doesn’t strike me as the type of guy that can do temporary. He strikes me as the type who falls fast, proposes faster, and starts building a family before the paint dries. And with how much Zalea wants a child right now—even if she hasn’t admitted it aloud—I know she could say yes to him for reasons that have nothing to do with love.
“If you were really into him,” I say evenly, “you wouldn’t be here with me. You wouldn’t be moving in with me. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be fucking me almost every night since I got here.”
Her hand clamps over my mouth, staring at me wide-eyed before she glances toward the owner, who’s staring at us with parted lips.
“We’re so sorry,” Zalea whispers.
She disappears into the change room, leaving me alone with the aftermath and the world’s most awkward silence. While the owner rings up the dresses, she attempts to upsell handmade quilt-style tote bags, and I buy all three—partly because they’re nice, but mostly because I’m hoping it softens the tension.
When Zalea comes out of the change room holding the dress, she hands it to the owner who wraps it up before placing it in our large shopping bag with the rest of the dresses while I pay. We thank her and leave in a rush, largely because Zalea is physically dragging me out.
“Oh my God,” she groans once we’re outside. “That was so embarrassing. You can’t say things like that in front of strangers.”
“I was stating facts,” I reply, wandering toward a nearby homeware shop.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Zalea grabs my arm and pulls me back. “We’ve spent way more than I’m comfortable with. Shopping is over for today.”
“Fine,” I concede. “But we’re coming back tomorrow.”
We walk toward the resort, her grip on my arm eventually loosening. After a few quiet minutes, when the crowds thin and the buzz of shoppers is replaced by the sound of crashing waves in the distance, she glances up at me.
“You never asked your question at lunch.”
I didn’t forget, but after the way our conversation ended I didn’t think it was the right time to ask what I wanted to. Seeing how tense she is right now only confirms my instinct.
“How likely is it that your answer will upset me?” I ask, eyes forward.
“If you’re going to ask the same question as before, then very likely,” she says softly.
I nod, then take her hand and guide her to the inside of the sidewalk so that I’m closer to the road.
“Then I’ll wait until we’re back in Florence.”
She stops short. “What?”
I smile gently. “Let’s not invite anymore tension into this weekend. I want this trip to be fun for the both of us.”
She studies my face for a long moment, searching—for what, I don’t know—before turning her gaze toward the water.
“Okay.”
I squeeze her hand, offering comfort I’m not sure I feel. Because beneath the calm, worry is sitting heavy in my chest.Whatever she’s afraid to tell me…I have a feeling it’s going to destroy a piece of me.
A piece of us.
And all I can do is hope that we’re strong enough to survive it.
